To Touch the Sun
by psychedelic panda
Summary: Emma Dale was just a lessthansimple girl who dreamed of nothing more. But unexpectedly, she's thrown into another world with people she's not so sure she likes to go on some journey she really wants nothing to do with.
1. Prologue

Prologue::

Deep within the heart of London smokey white fog filled the dark streets; cold weather had taken control once again, forcing people of all sorts to bustle in and out of the nearest coffee shop in hopes of getting something warm. "Aunt Mattie's Coffee", wasn't particularly the best place to get coffee but the old woman who ran the little shop was kind and could unfreeze any stone heart with a smile. So they all swallowed the bitter drink and smiled even if their's had been sweetened perhaps to a sickeningly point and continued to come back.

Subject to much of the over crowded café and shouts ringing through the walls, a young lady in her early twenties stood behind the counter, her dark brown eyes gazing in boredom at the woman before her.

"Thank you, come again," She muttered unenthusiastically, handing the woman a Styrofoam cup, the heat of the coffee seeped through the cup and singed her hands as the woman fixed her blonde curls before even giving the coffee a glance. Emma Dale growled as a snotty smile was given to her in gratitude, her long fingers itching to feel her own hair. Dry and limp, and such an ugly sort of brown too; like mud, but worse -to her, at least.

How she hated working and living anywhere near London, where all the "pretty people", as dubbed by Emma, wandered about flaunting their pretty blonde hair and big blue eyes. Even the redheads and brunettes would do it from to time. Though, what sickened her most was their constant taunting at her pale skin and unkempt hair. She couldn't help it if she was as pale as death or if her hair frizzed every time it dried, it was just how she was made.

Tall and lanky, she was a boney woman with no shape. And, as if to further this image of boy-ish appearance, Emma chose to wear large shirts and baggy jeans. She could care less about what she wore. After all, her mentality had become: I don't look good anyways, why should I dress like I do? It was quite a sad little state she had put herself in, but no one dared to correct her. Not even her family, for they knew that even if they tried they'd suffer the harsh sting of Emma's angry bark.

Her temper was quite the killer.

Mixing together a strange assortment of blends and creams, Emma grumbled endlessly to herself. Oh, how she hated this job. How she hated having to get up and actually move every morning. But, she needed the money and so she would haul herself out of bed every morning and drag her body to the coffee shop. Every day the same thing, save for Saturdays and Holidays -her days off.

Though, today seemed different. Unexplainable; there was a constant low rumble everywhere she went, and when she confronted her co-workers about the feeling they laughed and told her it was her imagination. Emma frowned as the rumble slowly came back, drumming directly beneath her feet, following her steps as she moved to hand an elderly couple their drinks.

Suddenly, without warning, everything went dark; nobody was there, nothing was there. She dropped the porcelain cup in her hands; her dark eyes darted about for a sign of another life, someone to call out to, someone to explain this ordeal. No one.

A green slime oozed from the dark ground, taking hold of her feet and ankles as the ground split in two, like a door opening to somewhere beyond her imagination. Down she fell, down into the unthinkable.

_And thus our story begins..._


	2. Pinoir

As dawn rose above the hills of Pinoir, a land where magic and unicorns really did exist and roamed about freely every day, a low uproar of voices could be heard from the tall shop "Wizards, Witches, Assassins and Things". A well-known stop throughout the land, and then some; known mainly for the owners, Viktorr Leaonato Parres, or "Leon" to those who did not wish to die a slow and painful death, and Robette Noisinthe, dubbed "Bette" by her partner.

Both were terribly quarrelsome and quite impatient with each other every morning, all of it starting with a simple "Good Morning" from Bette, the younger of the two, which was never replied to by the man. Instead, he growled in her direction -as he was not a pleasant sight in the morn, and sauntered off drunkenly into the depths of his bathroom, where he would stay until much later. And it was there that they would bicker so bitterly, shouting through the white painted door of pine between them.

"I don't see why it bothers you still!" A voice shouted, embraced with acidic anger. The owner of the voice, Leon, was hovering over the bathroom sink, staring with a shudder at the reflection he received through the mirror. He pulled gently at the bottom lid of eyes right eye, as if to get a better look at his deep blue eyes, crystalline with sleep. With a saddened sigh, Leon attempted to drown out the female's foreign banter, though failed miserably as she was quite and loud and quite stubborn. She just would not stop until she had one. A childlike quality of her's; though, sadly, it was not the only one.

Eyes, framed in darkly thick lashes, gazed silently at the door separating him from the female who he'd was contemplating beating into unconsciousness as of the moment.

"Jielaka skepsi nuu tui nai," he grumbled, horridly murdering what he had learned of her melodic language. Upon hearing her muffled laughter, he frowned deeply and pressed his long, elegant fingers on the brass doorknob, slowly turning it to get a peek of that ginger haired imp.

"My dear Bette," whispered the man as he brushed back his waist length hair, the silky strands darker than night itself. "Would you be so kind as to tidy yourself up and ready the shop for opening, as today is Sunday and there will be quite a crowd lining outside our door." He spoke each word carefully and articulately, his sweetened voice drenched in honey; perhaps the voice he used when trying to sell a worn robe for twice its worth a novice witch or wizard.

She raised a brow thoughtfully, still struggling to keep down the laughter that burst out of her at any moment. Her eyes, green folded in shimmering honey, searched wordlessly from behind feathering wings of black for the perfect way to end her venom.

Finally, she managed with a hiss, "Your hair's a mess." Adding a small snort of mirth, she slowly turned and headed down the cobweb decorated hallway and towards the stairs.

Leon glared hatefully at Bette's retreating figure before dissappearing into the bathroom once more. Glancing idly at the walls around him, stained in a strange assortment of colours, Bette's attempt to 'brighten up' Leon's beloved room, he moved calmly to the cabinet and pulled out a collection of products and dumped them all into the sink's mouth; thus, his day began.

Dust flew wildly about the dusky room, cluttered with robes, books, wands, spells, herbs and a wide range of weapons. Setting down the broom with a low grumble. Bette examined the room she had swept in such horrid fashion.

A deep green satin blouse clung gently to her delicate curves, the sleeves ripped out by the seems, creating a slight ragged aspect to her grandiose air. A skirt of the same colour lined in gold draped from her hips to her ankles, held to her form by a gold and purple striped clothe covering from just below her bosom to the edge of her hips. Dark purple pants, coloured to match the ever watching eyes of the gold dragon embroidered extravagantly to the front of her blouse, were revealed through long slits on her skirt. The colours she chose did wonders with her dark, olive complexion.

Bette nodded once more in approval, muttering, "It'll do." The words slipped past her lips in a song, the melodic waves snaring the senses and calming the mind. Her eyes darted to the stairs where Leon would soon make his appearance, extravagant and overly done, as usual.

A low rumble brought the youth to tear her eyes away from the stairs and to the ceiling, no time spent before they began wide with fear and worry. "Ah...Le-Leon..." She cried weakly, watching as the wooden boards slowly began to split and splinter.

It all happened so quickly, like a great swoop through the shop. Bette had lodged herself beneath the sales desk, curled into a tight ball. The shop was now a complete mess, a massive pile of wood remained in the middle of it all as dust rose in thick clouds, the shop's items thrown about mindlessly. Nothing was stable, save for the sales desk and a few tables, which were now toppled over and possibly crushing something of value.

The ginger haired female brushed back her long curls to gape at the large hole in the roof, mild curses whispered now. She stopped and fell eerily silent upon hearing a pained groan. There, atop the pile was a young woman, sprawled out most uncomfortably. It was none other than our dear Emma.

Slowly, cautiously, Bette crawled out from beneath the desk, approaching the woman with the upmost vigilance. "Miss?" She squeaked, just as a deep, overwhelming smell of sweet roses filled the room, announcing the black haired man's entrance.


	3. Slime

"Good heavens, Bette!" Leon cried, gawking frightfully at the mess in the middle of the shop. "What happened? Are you all right? Who's that? Where did she come from?"

As he ran down the stairs, as quickly as he could, the cream blouse he wore billowed and danced around his slender figure, the large sleeves cuffed at his wrists, lace trickling over his hands. He wore quite an array and assortment of jewels -necklaces, two emerald earrings, one in each ear, and rings of different sorts of symbols decorating his fingers. Dark hair tied in a low ponytail, trailing behind him as he dashed to the spastic youth, waiting impatiently for the story.

Bette swayed, rocking on her feet before blurting out: "Well, there was a rumble and theneverythingfellinabigheapandshewasthere." Her words mashing together in one great big word. It was a wonder Leon got any of it; but he did, nodding and listening intently to the young girl's voice.

They seemed so enthralled in each other's frightened gaze and mindless rambling that they did not notice as Emma slowly awoke and gaped in blinking confusion. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and narrowed them at the pair, her head throbbed and her body was sore all over. No doubt she'd find herself adorned in bruises by tomorrow from this unexplainable fall.

"Um." Her harsh voice caused the ginger haired one to jump and let out a small cry of fright, both turning to ogle wide-eyed at the strange woman. Dust clung to her pasty white skin, blending in with the freckles that circled across her cheeks.

Gathering her courage, pushing herself away from the muddle and confusion of the mess, she demanded wearily, "Where am I?" Chocolate eyes grazed over the chaos that now settled and bejeweled the shop before returning to examine the strange figures before her. Emma's eyes settled on the man, Leon, and a deep blush swept across her bony features. Her mouth fell slack as she gaped in content awe at him. She studied his high set cheekbones, alluring eyes and long, luscious locks. She was jealous, yes, but not enough to ruin her appreciation of him. However, she frowned when it became clear to her that he was no taller than her, she being at five foot ten.

Leon fluttered his eyes with a deep befuddled thought momentarily before opening his mouth to speak, quickly interrupted by the smallest of the three, Bette. "Wh-who are you?"

Emma stared downward at the dark skinned female, who seemed to be a whole foot shorter than her and instantly caused her to assume she was naught more than a child, especially with such a youthful face as her's. She frowned, jealous, once more, of the other's exotic features and thus replied curtly, "Emma."

"Well, Miss Emma," Leon smiled brusquely, stepping towards the brunette with a short, sweeping bow, "Do you mind telling me why you fell through my roof?"

Emma glanced upwards at the large hole above them, then back at Leon dryly, "I don't know." She raised a questioning brow to the man's exasperated glare, a deep scowl tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Look! I don't know how I got here, where I am or how the hell I came through your roof! And what are you doing!?!" She shouted, turning her attention to Bette, who was pulling green slime from Emma's ankles.

Bette let out a short moan of worry. "Leon," She whined, looking back at him, holding up a finger dripping in slime.

Emma stared in horror at the green goo, moving forward some to touch it. Leon jumped forward and smacked her hand, "Don't touch it!" He barked, a temper venomous enough to match her own.

She bellowed, ready to snap at the man before her. Bette let out a shriek, causing both to end their glaring fest and look to the youth, startled to see that the slime had begun to slide over her tiny hand and arm, consuming her with such speed that it seemed near impossible to stop it. Emma looked down to her ankles in fear, discovering that the slime had begun to travel up her legs. She screamed as it trickled to her waist. Leon slapped a hand over her mouth, his thumb pressed firmly against the side of her nose.

"Don't scream!"

Emma glared at him. How dare he! She lifted her slime-covered hands to grab at his arm, though he pulled back, leaving a small pink imprint of his thumb ring on her nose.

"Don't touch me!" Leon glared fiercely at her, now pressing his hand against her forehead. He muttered a few foreign words beneath his breath and a low wind picked up around him, his flamboyant choice of clothing and hair fluttered around him in a surreal scene that brought Emma to gasp. She was in such a state of awe that she did not notice the green goop slip from her body, sizzling and disappearing.

Watching as the wind dispersed and his tired body slumped forward, Emma trembled. If there was anything she feared more than roaches it was the unknown. She hated to think that she had no idea as to how he managed such power, where she was and what had just been all over her.

Though Bette's body being pulled away quickly caught her attention and distracted her fear, a finger raised to point in the girl's direction. "Look," she managed, her voice hoarse and dry.

Leon turned his head upwards immediately, his hand grasping the silk clothe of his shirt, where his heart would be. His eyes widened as he noticed strange substance had completely swallowed his friend and was now suffocating her subconsciously as it pulled her towards the doorway. He jumped up and ripped a necklace from his neck, running towards her, crying out: "Here!"

The slime grew in multitudes and came at him like a rushing wave, an attempt to separate the two. Leon stretched his arm out towards her, holding out the necklace. Emma noticed a distinct tear drop crystal container with something inside, another bit of unknown. Though, it did rather remind her of how pixie dust was portrayed in story book fairy-tales.

"You know it'll do no good! I'll destroy the shop!" Bette called out, her voice muffled by the goo; it were as though she were trying to speak under water, a futile attempt. Leon shook his head profusely, struggling to fight off the slime and get closer to her, close enough for her to grasp the necklace. "That's okay," he whispered breathlessly, offering a half smile.

And after what seemed like hours of their fruitless effort, Emma finally managed to awake from her fear, find her legs and run to them, stealing the necklace from Leon as she did so. The slime had not expected her to intervene (though she wasn't sure if it thought, really) -and if they had faces she assumed they'd look as stupefied as Leon and Bette did as she fought past a small clump of slime and thrust the necklace at Bette.

Quickly, Emma shut her eyes and waited for the worst to happen. As the smaller female removed the glass ball top from the vile and let the "pixie dust" fall out into the palm of her hand, a wind -much bigger than the one from Leon- grew around her and the dust vanished, blending into the wind. Her eyes became a deep crimson and almost emotionless as the slime sizzled and friend under the unidentifiable force she used upon them. Nothing could be trace, but its affect was more than visible.

With Emma already on the floor and Leon sprawled out against a mass of discarded robes, Bette collapsed to the ground as the slime began to become nothing, the walls of the little shop melted and destroyed entirely.

A large group of customers lined around the shop, staring in shock and confusion at the mess. Amongst the group was a well dressed man, portly and well taken care of my a mass of attendants -someone Emma thought to be a king. "What happened?" He demanded with that nasally, snitty voice of his.

"Remodeling." Leon replied, his voice harsh and scarcely a whisper, as he fell to his side, breathing heavily.

"And her?" A fat finger rose to point at Emma, whose hair had now become quite a mass of frizz by now, with chances of a rat's nest.

"New help." Whispered Bette, whose eyes had returned to normal. And from his spot on the floor, Leon raised an arm, the sleeve torn and ragged with burnt holes and singed edges.

"Now, if you do not mind, please leave, as we are not fit for opening just yet. We will be set in a week or so."

Emma fell back. What had she gotten herself into? Where was she? Hadn't she just been mixing a coffee not too long a go? She couldn't seem to find the answers that all started with icky green slime. But, she figured, if she waited long enough and helped out a bit these two might help her find the answers and how to get back home.


End file.
